Realisation
by Write Here2
Summary: Giving Mac perspective during a difficult case, Stella makes him realise a few important things.


DISCLAIMER - not mine.

A/N - A one-shot written because I am feeling extremely glum. Long story, but suffice to say its entirely all my fault. Still, hopefully most should be sorted tomorrow with much apologies and the rest in a couple of weeks. In the meantime, I thought I would write a piece which is also glum. Although, optimism may yet win through…

* * *

He sat with his back against the wall, trying to figure out what had gone wrong in this latest case. A teenage boy had gone missing. His frantic family had plagued CSI and the police all week for news. He had put a rush on everything - the kid was only fourteen - but to no avail. They had been struggling for answers when a homeless man well-known to them all called in a dead body.

The kid had been found in a dumpster just four blocks from his home. It had been seven days since he disappeared. There were no clues yet as to where he had been. In fact, just about the only thing the CSIs had been able to find was that he had been killed by a massive blow to the head. Only that morning, Mac had spoken to the family about the results of the autopsy. They were all, without doubt, innocent. All their movements were accounted for.

The father - a mild-mannered high school teacher of forty-five - had gone into a rage. A couple of the lab techs were still trying to clear up the mess and call in some glaziers. Mac had dodged the first punch. While Flack, Danny, and the others tried to control the distraught man, Mac had taken the opportunity to walk away. He had taken refuge on the roof of the building.

"You hiding up here?"

He turned sideways, and offered Stella a weak smile. She handed him a small towel.

At his confused look, she gestured towards her forehead. "You're bleeding."

Mac touched his forehead gingerly. He was surprised to find that it hurt. Pressing the towel firmly against the small wound, he smiled more genuinely at his old friend. She stood there, as if waiting for him to speak. It was a few moments before she gave up. Stella sat down next to him instead.

"Mr Francis wants to apologise to you." Stella said.

The Francis family consisted of Archie and Beth, the parents, and three kids. Thomas was the oldest, at seventeen. Next came Joshua, the missing boy. Finally, there was the only daughter, seven year old Lizzie. They were a very average, very consistent family - until a week ago.

Stella realised she wasn't going to get a reply. "He felt terrible, once he calmed down. Wanted to speak to you right away."

Mac stared into the concrete. He heard everything his friend was saying, but somehow it didn't penetrate his brain properly. He had taken the case personally. It was one of the few things he had always warned the others against, but he understood it. Right now, it was one of the few things he did understand. Having Stella sit by him and just talk was grounding.

"Mac-"

"He was dead between twelve and twenty four hours after he disappeared, Stella. The kid never had a chance. And neither did we."

She gripped his shoulder with a strong hand. "I know."

Stella changed the subject quickly. Her ability to sense when to delve deeply into a conversation, and when to get out of it, had served their friendship well. The clean-up downstairs was apparently being carried out by four lab techs - two juniors who were just out of training, one who was on a training placement, and one who had displeased Stella in a way she refused to explain. The work was going well - nobody had managed to sever a finger yet, anyway. As the story wound up, Stella knew Mac's concentration on her was wavering. With resignation, she hauled herself to her feet.

"Mac."

He looked up, absentmindedly. "Stella?"

She smiled. "Just remember. You said it yourself - we never had a chance to save him. All we can do is follow the evidence and find out who did this."

Watching Stella make her way back into the building, Mac felt the weight on his chest lessen very slightly. He still felt the whole world on his shoulders. It was just that he knew now it could be shared.


End file.
